


all my enemies, they just fall in love with me

by tinyinkstainedbird



Category: Survivor (US TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23686255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyinkstainedbird/pseuds/tinyinkstainedbird
Summary: The game is over, but Jay and Adam still see the island when they look at each other.
Relationships: Adam Klein/Jay Starrett
Comments: 15
Kudos: 21





	all my enemies, they just fall in love with me

_Who’s giving up the most? No one’s gonna give you a medal._

_Who’s giving up the ghost? Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?_

_The competition rages._

**_Olympians - Andrew Bird_ **

  
  
  


It’s four in the morning and Jay doesn’t want to talk about why he’s awake or why he’s walking past Adam’s bedroom door. There’s nothing to tell you or to admit -- and anyway, even if there was, in order for you to understand he’d have to go back in time and tell you he’d never had trouble sleeping until Adam moved in, and that’s not where he wants to start tonight. 

No. Tonight starts in the moment when Jay turns his head and glances into Adam’s open door and sees him propped up against pillows, still awake and reading fucking Harry Potter. Tonight starts when Jay’s feet stop and his heart races and suddenly he’s back in Fiji. 

He doesn’t know what it is -- maybe it’s the size of the book or how far into it he is or the godawful look on his face -- but it reminds him of watching Adam trying his heart out to make fire back on the island: he knows he can’t do it but he’s going to try anyway. 

Jay can almost feel the sand between his toes as he stands there in the hall and watches Adam read a book that makes him sad, not helping. Just like the days they warred on the beach, Jay knows he could help, knows he should, knows his mother would want him to _(both_ their mothers would, he knows); he knows he could step forward and put an end to his struggling and help him coax a little flame for the both of them to keep warm by. But he doesn’t. 

And he doesn’t know why. It was a game back then, sure, but he doesn’t have that excuse anymore. That’s probably fucking why: this is not a game. Jay is not playing. 

Adam turns the page, eyebrow knitting, lips parting as his teary eyes raise back to the top and keep reading. Jay should keep walking, just go get his glass of water and go back to bed. But he can’t, because he knows that look. Breaking and lost and determined to get through this no matter what it does to his idiot little heart. It’s just a book now and it was just a fire then but Adam is thinking about his mother like he always did and has and will. 

The floorboard creaks because Jay’s knees go weak and he has to shift his weight to keep them from shaking and Adam looks up and Jay has to clear his throat to cover it all up as he says, “Nerd.”

Adam nearly jumps out of his skin, like he always does, fumbling his book and sputtering curses. “Jay!” he whines. “You scared me.”

Jay grins. “Dude, go to sleep.”

“I’m _reading.”_

And Jay wants him to stop. He wants to take it and throw it in the fire he never helped him make and he wants Adam to stop burying himself in that stupid story about a dumb kid who can do anything in the world except for have his parents back. 

At the very least, he should cross the room and mark his page and slip the book from his hands and ask him how he’s doing just like he should have walked across that beach and crouched down beside him and told him he was doing great and bent down to blow on the embers when the smoke rose. 

But where there’s smoke there’s fire and Adam is his home. Jay can’t let this catch a spark. 

“Suit yourself,” Jay says, because he can’t come up with anything else. “Night, Adam.”

+

There were times in Fiji when Adam would wonder if Jay was raised by wolves. 

He knew better, of course -- Jay talked about his mom all the time. So much so that Adam knew Jay’s mother used to call him Tarzan when she’d tell him to come inside and eat dinner as a kid, so if anything, maybe _raised by apes_ would be more accurate, except for the fact that whenever Adam looked at Jay, all he could see was wolf. 

Graceful and powerful and so easy to trick. 

They’re roommates now, not competitors. Adam tries to remember that. 

It’s just that the game was so long ago and Adam still can’t let his guard down. He can’t stop hanging on every word, either, but his walls are a million miles high and getting higher. The game is over but he’s still playing. It’s hard to be around someone like Jay and not want to win. 

Adam already won, he knows that; he won the million dollars and now he lives with Jay like that’s not the weirdest thing in the world, but sometimes -- most times -- fuck it, _all the time --_ Adam feels like they’re still fighting on the island. Like they’re both going for a prize that neither of them wants to admit to the other. They go grocery shopping together and split the internet bill and have a cleaning chart, for God’s sake, but Adam can’t kick the feeling that Jay’s going to pull the rug out from underneath him one of these days if he doesn’t keep his cards close to his chest. 

Because here’s the thing about Jay: on paper, he’s better than Adam in every way. Jay is a wolf and Adam is a weasel; who the fuck do you think wins that fight? Jay is fast and strong and beautiful and Adam is pretty sure he’s none of those things. They’re brothers, they’re roommates, but they’re enemies, too. He thinks they always will be. 

So the next morning, the one after Adam stayed up too late reading, when Jay slides open the back door and walks into the kitchen with his skin slick with sweat, Adam’s first reaction is to be annoyed. It’s the only viable reaction. The only one he allows himself to have. 

Jay’s all smiles and good mornings as he heads straight for the fridge, somehow always seeming more boundless after he’s exhausted himself. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Adam says, holding his breath as he watches warily, like it’s tribal council and he’s scared of what Jay might have up his sleeve. “Do you _have_ to drip all over the kitchen every time you finish working out?”

“What would you suggest?”

“A _shower?”_

“Later. I’m thirsty.”

Adam watches Jay drink orange juice straight from the carton, and his eyes follow a drop that curves its way down his throat. “You’re disgusting, is what you are.”

Jay beams like only Jay can and wanders over to the table where Adam sits with his book. Adam thinks he sees his smile waver for a moment when Jay looks at the book, but he can’t imagine why.

“Think you can put the book down long enough to join the party tonight?”

The party. Fuck. They’re throwing a party tonight. Exactly what Adam wants. He can’t wait to watch Jay pay attention to everyone but him. 

Before he can answer, Adam gets a text -- one of Hannah’s friends, a girl Hannah’s convinced would be perfect for Adam despite the fact that she’s the female version of Jay, which is to say she’s strong and fast and beautiful and everything Adam is absolutely not -- and he quickly turns his phone over. Doesn’t think twice, just hides it. 

Idiot. 

He might as well have let Jay see his entire hand, just gone ahead and shown him all the shitty cards he’s holding, the ones that count for nothing but keep him in the fucking game. 

Adam glances up nervously to see if Jay noticed, and it’s the night of his blindside all over again. Adam sees the victory and relief Jay had been on fire with when he’d pulled out David’s fake idol that night, so sure he could still win, sure he could still stay in the game to fight one more day, like maybe this wasn’t all for nothing or completely hopeless after all. It had been a trap, of course, but first there was joy. And Adam sees now that Jay not only noticed, but there’s that joy again. He looks like a million bucks. 

But Adam’s heart is still back on the island where it fell in love with Jay’s. Jay, who could devour him. Jay, who was _meant to._ Jay is a wolf and Adam is a weasel. 

So Adam picks his phone back up and tries to look casual as he says, “Yeah, I’m thinking of asking Kailey to come.” 

Jay’s smile crashes. Blindsided. 

“Cool,” Jay says, recovering gracefully now just like he had back then, admirably even, telling him hey, go for it, dude, and picks his smile back up where he’d dropped it. He cracks some joke Adam doesn’t hear, and Adam doesn’t laugh. 

There’s nothing funny about a wild animal falling for a trick. 

+

The party rages while the ocean crashes in Jay’s head. 

Jay remembers their first night on the island, back when he hadn’t gotten everyone’s names down yet. He remembers Taylor’s unearthly blue eyes and his West Coast laugh; he remembers Figgy’s freckles and her dangerous smile. He remembers Michelle and how a harmless crush felt. He remembers Will and Hannah and Zeke and Michaela, still just brand new summer camp friends he didn’t love yet but knew he would, and he remembers the dark clouds rushing in as they all ran out together, tripping across the sand and throwing themselves into the waves. They knew a storm was coming, but it wasn’t here yet, so they might as well play -- that’s what being a millennial was all about, right? 

He remembers Adam standing on the beach in his red sweater, worrying. An eye on the sky. Their unbuilt shelter in pieces behind him as the wind swept in. It was day one, they had no home, a storm was coming, and everyone was playing. Adam must have been having a heart attack, bursting at the seams with anxiety over all the things that needed to be done while balancing his desperate need to be cool and not spoil anyone’s good time. 

This is California and there are no storms to hide from but Jay still plays too much while Adam waits for him to come back. He wants to finish what they started but he’s too scared to ruin the moment and be hated for it. Jay doesn’t see it that way, but here at this party, with him playing beer pong while Adam clings to the sidelines with an eye on Jay’s messes, that’s exactly how it is. 

Jay also remembers that it wasn’t the storm that chased him back to the beach. It was Adam. Just the simple sight of him reminded him: It was time to go in. 

So it shouldn’t be surprising that every party ends up like this. Laughing with people he doesn’t love yet but knows he could, unafraid of the storm coming and all he needs to do, pulled back in like the tide to wherever Adam is. This is how it always goes. 

Jay flops down beside Adam on the couch and for a second their crowded living room fades away and it’s just them in a hammock gently swinging. That’s why Jay forgets to crack a joke and just cuts to the chase instead. 

“Where’s Kailey?”

Adam shrugs. “Beats me.”

“She’s not coming?” When Adam just shrugs again, Jay shrugs back and says, “Her loss, man.”

Adam tips back his beer. He’s drinking more than usual. 

So is Jay. He wants to say a million things but all he comes up with is: “That first shelter would’ve been a goner anyway.” 

Adam snaps a look at him. “What?”

“The one we didn’t make because we were too busy dicking around in the water,” Jay says. “Even if we’d finished it that first night, the cyclone would’ve destroyed it the next day. No matter how strong we made it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I just fucking told you.”

“Okay,” Adam says uneasily, “but why are you bringing it up right now?”

“Because sometimes I think about it and I feel bad about it.”

“Why do you feel bad about it?”

“I literally have no idea.”

“How drunk are you?”

“Very.”

Adam studies him. Jay lets him. “Jay, I don’t--”

“I don’t always do the right thing,” Jay blurts. “But sometimes there’s no point, you know what I mean? What’s the point of doing the right thing when everything’s just going to go wrong anyway?” 

Adam’s hand closes too hard around his beer can, denting it. It takes him a long time to reply, and when he does, he’s almost too quiet to hear. “Why does it have to go wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Jay says. “Maybe it wouldn’t. But what if it does?” 

“I--” Adam glances over his shoulder, like they’re back in the game. “Then I guess we rebuild.” 

Jay studies him. Adam doesn’t let him. He turns his face so Jay can't look at him, and says, “The second one was better than the first anyway."

“Jay, you asshole!”

Jay and Adam snap their heads in unison in time to see a drunk girl launch herself onto Jay’s lap and throw her arms around his neck. She was an early boot on _Big Brother_ a few seasons ago, and she’s a fixture at every party. “What are you doing, silly?” she asks. “I need my beer pong partner back.” 

Jay looks at Adam, not for permission to go, but to stay. 

The girl looks at Adam too, but she’s not asking for anything. “We were undefeated.”

Adam smiles wanly. “I bet you were.”

“Come on,” the girl says, a hand closing around Jay’s thigh. “It’s our turn.”

The storm clouds roll in. Jay goes back to play. 

\+ 

But this time, Adam doesn’t let him. 

Maybe the boy in the red sweater hanging back on the beach wouldn’t have done this. That boy didn’t have a million bucks but he still had a mom and as a result he didn’t know how brave he could be yet. 

But he won that fucking game. He’s going to win this one, too. 

And the only way to do that, he realizes, is to play. 

“I’m in,” Adam says, breaking through the crowd standing around the kitchen table, and plants his feet next to Jay. “What do I do?”

“Dude,” Jay says, his grin following a beat after. “You’ve never played beer pong?”

“No.”

“Didn’t you go to Stanford?”

“Well, yeah, but I studied.” 

Jay gathers an affectionate sigh in his lungs and lets it go with a roll of his eyes and completely forgets about the girl beside him as he shows Adam how to play. Adam’s a quick study, eager to please and even more eager to win, and when he sinks his first ball in the cup across the table, he turns to Jay with joy and lets Jay put an arm around his shoulders as they celebrate his tiny victory. 

“They should play this game on Survivor!” Adam exclaims. 

Jay laughs. He keeps his arm around Adam’s shoulders as he takes his turn, and nails it, even with his left hand. For once, Adam loves him for it instead of hates him. 

The girl drifts off to find someone who will pay attention to her, and Adam feels his heart rise like it had back on the island when they voted Michelle out. Soon the game is just between Jay and Adam, teammates for once instead of competitors, with no one interested in watching them win or lose. 

Jay throws the ball over his shoulder and misses by a long shot -- Adam loves him for that, too -- and the two of them die laughing and then realize they’re alone in the kitchen. Their laughter fades into sighs, both of them too drunk to keep from crossing the line they drew in the sand so long ago. 

Adam’s walls are breaking down. Fuck. 

“I’m sorry I picked off everyone in your alliance,” he says. 

Jay frowns, runs a hand through his curls, and then mutters, “You didn’t do that by yourself.”

“No, but I liked you better without them,” Adam blurts. Goddammit. He always talks too fucking much. “I liked you most when your alliance was gone.”

“Makes you kind of an asshole, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.”

Jay lowers his gaze. “I wanted to take you to the end, you know.”

“You couldn’t get there without me,” Adam says quietly. They’re back on the hammock in Fiji, their voices as gentle as their sway. “You were too good.”

Jay shrugs. “We could have made it together.”

Adam reaches for a drink. It’s probably not his. Jay presses the back of his wrist into Adam’s drink, urging him to put it down. He’s not looking at Adam, but for once, Adam’s looking at him. “Sometimes I don’t think I deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve a lot of things,” Jay tells him. “But you deserved to win.”

“It cost me everything.”

“I know it did, Adam. I know it did.”

“You wanna hear the worst thing?”

Jay shakes his head. “Okay.”

“Now I have a million dollars and you,” Adam says, and his walls are down and all that’s left is the island between them. “I’d give the money back but I can’t say the same thing about you.”

Jay finally looks at him, and now it’s not his own blindside Adam sees, it’s Michaela’s. The blindside he’d orchestrated so beautifully, the moment the world saw how dangerous Jay was, how smart and calculating. How heartless. Who else but Jay could hold the gaze of someone he’d just crushed and not break it? Who else could own their betrayal so brazenly? Who else could hate themselves so openly for doing what needed to be done? 

_Yeah. I did it._

That’s the look Jay’s giving Adam now. 

So Adam takes a page from Michaela’s book and leaves. He doesn’t wait to see his fire go out. 

+

Jay’s legs haven’t shaken this hard since the night he’d blindsided Michaela. 

The house is mostly empty and the lights are mostly off. He cleaned the kitchen as best he could so Adam wouldn’t feel the need to wake up early and do it himself, and now he’s so sober it hurts. Truth be told, he’s been sober since Adam dropped that bomb and left, and it’s so stupid but he wants tribal council. He wants to talk fireside and lay their weapons down and duke it out; he wants to be held accountable and he wants to call Adam’s bluff and he wants to do it without immunity.

He takes the garbage out and smiles on his way back into the house when he realizes neither of them were any good at playing idols. 

There are people sleeping in the living room, so he tries to be quiet as he turns off the rest of the lights and walks down the hall to bed. He knows they’ll go back to playing the game tomorrow like tonight never happened and Adam hadn’t said what he’d said, but maybe he’ll actually sleep tonight, knowing the truth. 

It’s well after four in the morning, and Jay has a glass of water in his hand and should just go to bed, but his head turns when he sees Adam’s door is open and his light is on. 

The show is over, but they aren’t. Adam won but Jay lost. He knocks on the door. 

Adam looks up from his stupid book. 

“Want some water?” Jay asks. 

Adam blinks at him, walls up, wondering if he can trust him. “I have some, thanks.”

Jay notices the glass of water on Adam’s bedside table. He drags his gaze back over to Adam. “Can I come in or should I just stand here like an asshole?”

“You can do whatever you want, Jay.”

So Jay does. He wants to come in, so he does. He kicks the door closed lightly with his heel and crosses the room, because he wants to, and he sits down beside Adam on the bed with his back against the headboard, because he wants that, too. 

“You sleep with your door open,” Jay says. 

Adam nods. “I haven’t been able to close it since the island.”

Jay smiles. “I haven’t been able to sleep since the island.”

“You can sleep now, if you want,” Adam tells him softly. 

Jay’s smile shakes, but he thinks maybe he could. He shifts down on the bed so he’s flat on his back and looking up at the ceiling, and he doesn’t look over when Adam does the same. The bed’s not small enough for them to be pressed together at the shoulders and the hips like that day in the hammock, but that’s what happens. 

Adam looks up at him, and Jay’s not surprised to see tears in his eyes. “Is this the first shelter or the second one?”

Jay blinks at him. “What?”

“Is this the one that’s just going to get ruined anyway?” Adam asks. “Or is it the one we built after the storm was over?”

Jay shakes his head. “I don’t know, Adam,” he says quietly. “That’s the problem.”

Adam nods, hugging a pillow to his chest. “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

Jay drapes an elbow across his face. He wishes he could see the stars. He has some wishes to make. 

So does Adam, apparently. “I miss the island,” he says. “I miss it every day. I wish we’d never left.”

Jay turns his head. He holds Adam’s gaze steady. Brazen and brave. He swallows hard and casts his vote. Their shelter catches fire as their lips catch each other. 

“Let’s go back.”

First or second, it’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if Jay and Adam became roommates before or after they went back to Fiji, so the timeline here might be totally off, but the fact that they literally did both of those things together is why I am writing fic about them 3.5 years later so here we are


End file.
